Don't Let the Fire Die
by VanillaSpiders
Summary: "Dear life, When I said, 'Can my day get any worse' it was a rhetorical question, not a challenge." Dexter Douglas was having a bad day. All things considered, it wasn't too bad, but a lot of little things that added up over time can take down even the strongest person, right? oneshot. slash if you squint, so be warned.


**A/N: This hasn't been edited and it's probably shit. Read at yer own discretion. **

_**Don't Let the Fire Die**_

"_Dear__ life, When I said, 'Can my day get any worse?' it was a rhetorical question, not a challenge." –Unknown _

Dexter Douglas was having a bad day.

Actually, he was having what could be potentially labeled as one of the worst days _ever_ in his nineteen year old life, but maybe that was being too pessimistic?

Maybe the rain would stop before he got home, and his ankle would stop swelling from when the head of hockey team tripped him in lunch, and maybe his stomach would stop growling because before being tripped Duncan had demanded his lunch because mom sent him with turkey again and Duncan hated turkey.

Whatever, it was like Duncan said; skinny weeds like him didn't need as much food as the kids on the wrestling team did. Made sense, Dexter supposed.

Maybe the day would get better? It was only 4 something anyway, there was still plenty of time for Dex to make the day better on his own. It wasn't a night for his alter ego to patrol, he had his head above all his classes, even the AP ones, and really, maybe the night could be spent in his pajamas in front of the computer with some hot coco and some popcorn. That sounded…really nice, actually. Just the idea of it all made his spine straighten up a little.

And then thunder above him rumbled quietly and Dexter moaned, pushing his protesting body into a clumsy jog. His ankle twinged in response and his stomach gurgled feebly, on top of all that his brain throbbed with a dull ache like it always did when he got stressed and the tiny geek recalled dimly he'd only gotten 3 hours of sleep last night because he was finishing up an essay that had been due today.

Huh. No wonder he was seeing everything in three's. Uh-oh.

_Aw Dex_, said a voice in his head, a voice that didn't even sound like his, deep and warm and friendly. _You gonna be okay buddy? Wanna switch?_

"No-o," Dex mumbled quietly to no one. His teeth chattered as he tugged his large over jacket round his body. He glanced upward and eyed the darkening sky above. "You know s-sometimes you attract lightning…I can make it home…"

He didn't reserve a verbal response, just the odd feeling of something curling round his mental thoughts and snuggling protectively close, like Freakazoid was trying to be an umbrella for his brain. _Kay Dexxy. _And then an urging thought of: _You can do it pal, almost home. Then computer time, yay!_

The tiny geek rounded the corner onto his street, saw his house coming up and felt his heroic alter ego curl against him and he smiled tiredly, despite everything.

It was mostly a less than good day thus far. But hey, maybe he could turn it around?

Dexter pushed open the front door, sneezed once or twice as he stepped into the warm house and called, "I'm home!"

He had his sneakers toed off and his book bag slung over his lower arm before he even received any type of answer at all.

"How was school dear?" His mother stuck her head in, and without waiting for him to answer her, went on. "Would you mind vacuuming the living room and kitchen for me? Your father and I have guests coming over tonight for dinner, so we need this place spick and span!"

"Uh can I, can I take a shower first? I'm kinda—" Drenched was a good word. And limping. He stood there before his mother, his head ducked and his bangs in his eyes. Freakazoid of course took pity on him, but his mother did not. It wasn't out of cruelty, Dexter had the feeling she just didn't notice much.

"You'll have plenty of time to do that when they get here and you go upstairs to spend all night on your computer dear, it'll only take a moment."

Dexter nodded and yanked off his over shirt, wrinkling his nose at his body as he glanced down at it. "…okay mom."

Vacuuming the house took as much time as his mother suggested, which really wasn't so bad.

What was bad was his father called him out into the chilly garage and had him spend twenty minutes trying to fix the leaf blower. Fall was coming, his dad said, had to have it ready, he said.

What are you shaking so hard for, son? The wrench too heavy for ya? Maybe I should ask Duncan, his father said. Dexter had just taken the comment and tried to screw a bolt back in without his numbed fingers dropping the screwdriver.

Freakazoid was uncharacteristically silent throughout this whole exchange between his mom and dad, it was only until Dexter was excused from his duties and walked into the kitchen for something to _finally_ eat did Freak threw in his two cents.

_Dex I love yer mom and dad to bits but sometimes they take advantage of you, buddy._

"…Freak, it's okay. Don't worry about it." The boy mumbled wearily, dragging a bowl and a box of cereal down to the counter. This was a good as dinner as any, right? His mom was making chicken French, and oh god did it smell so good and **warm**. Too bad it was for the dinner tonight. Read: Not Dexter or Duncan.

Ah well. Wasn't so bad. The boy tried to think like Freak tended to do, on the bright side, even if it felt like the darker side was trying to hammer its way into Dexter's side with a jackhammer.

'_Almost done.'_ Dexter thought wearily to himself, grabbing a fork and then a knife before he realized he needed a spoon. _'Almost upstairs. Then I can sleep. Or eat or, or both of those things at the same time.'_

"Oh Dexter dear, come set the table, then you have the rest of the night to yourself, I promise!" his cheerful mother called from somewhere.

Dexter stared at the Cheerios floating in the milk for a long, soul searching moment before dropping the spoon into them and stumbling round back to the dining room.

Setting the good plates and silverware was easy, so easy, because his mother left the room and that meant the boy could wave a hand and watch the table set itself by using his telekinesis. One of the greatest things ever about having the Freakazoid as his literal other side was that somewhere along the line _Dexter_ had actually developed a fairly strong skill of mental powers. It made sense, it was weird and he almost never used it, and of course never when anyone was around, but it made sense. It was also kind of nice to have something in him besides Freakazoid that made him less useless.

Spirits lifted but body almost shutting down on him, Dexter ducked back into the kitchen to grab his probably now soggy dinner of Cheerios, snag a delete cola and, oh, maybe even some Oreos as a treat, and retreat to the blessed sanctity of his room—he stopped dead.

His—His bowl was gone.

"Wah—" And Dexter stood there perplexedly in front of the place he was sure he'd left his bowl, but then what, where—

"Move it twink." Duncan brushed past him, pulled a spoon out of his lips and dropped a bowl in the sink and Dex glanced at it, freezing even more in his tracks—

The bowl _Dexter_ had poured his dinner into.

Well, that was it.

Dexter's throat thickened, his small fists clenched, and he was shaking not just from being chilled as he swung around and threw himself out the swinging doors, and up the stairs before his older brother could even begin to process anything.

And because he was Dexter Douglas of all people, he took the corner hallway too sharp and narrowly avoided walking on a sleeping Chubbykins, causing him to misstep and his small body to crash into the sharp angle and _that_ sent him tumbling to the ground in a pathetic heap.

Dexter laid there and took it, and he sobbed pure, exhausted tears into the carpeting.

What else was there to do? Dexter was done. He was just…it was just a bad day and Dexter was stupid to think he could try and fight it.

Immediately his distressed emotions were answered by a warm wave from Freakazoid, as good as sinking into a hot bath that curled tenderly and protectively round his spine, flooding his system with warmth and comfort. Realizing his _other self_ had to be the one to comfort some as miserable and stupid as him, Dexter pressed his nose harder into the carpeting and whimpered more, forbidden tears still leaking out from behind his lenses. He didn't think to much then about the thoughts that spilled from his side of their shared mind, a tiny little thoughts of,

_Freak…help._

_Aw, hey Dexxy don't do that, come on, come here—_ And Freakazoid moved to action at his boy's plea, murmuring kind reassurances and gentle thoughts. His body began to pick itself mechanically up. Freakazoid was somewhat in locomotive control and was getting Dexter to walk robotically to his room, the boys head hanging and he wasn't even looking where he was going.

_I gotcha buddy, it's okay. _

Dexter just groaned feebly.

Finally Freak withdrew his control just as he got Dexxy curled up on his bed and under his warm covers.

_There, that better? Hm?_ The hero sent over sweetly, and was given the mental equivalent to a trembling nod as Dexter curled up tighter to make himself appear smaller and closed his eyes, lying in his bed in the dark of his room. The glow from his computer start up screen washed a gentle light over his face and reflected off his glasses. Oh…okay. Bed was nice.

Sniff.

_Aw, Dexxy. Hey…Hey come into the Freakazone, come on._ No answer. _Please?_ _….Pretty please with those little rainbow sprinkles you like on top?_

With a weary shrug, Dexter rolled onto his back and relaxed, letting his mind fall back to the strings Freakazoid was pulling till Dexter felt nothing, heard nothing, stood in his own mind (Well, a portion of it.) and stared up at Freakazoid miserably, looking just as small as he felt before the tall, strong hero. He gave another weak sniff and wiped his cheek on the large cuff of his over shirt. Freakazoid blinked down at him.

"Zoids Dexter, you look horrible." His voice came in loud and clear here, and his scrawny counterpart just gave him a rather wounded look.

"Gee, thanks. I feel better already…"

"…oh come on, I didn't mean it like that—" Freak rolled his eyes behind his mask and strutted forward, reaching down to scoop Dexter up like he was nothing. Which, basically he was, at least in comparison to Freak. (Though to be truly fair most things were smaller than the superhero.)

"Gah—_hey_, put me down!" The boy wailed from his arms, looking so damn small and pathetic in Freak's arms. It just made the hero feel more protective than before, how could anyone pick on someone all small and sweet like Dexter?

"Nope." The hero grinned, eyes flashing happily in protest to Dex's plea. "My partner's all gloomy and icky feeling," he hugged the boy close and headed for the couch, flopping down with Dexter held firmly in his lap.

"M'gonna make my little partner allll better. You just watch."

"Oh yeah?" Dex muttered, but he resigned himself to his fate and rested his head against Freak's collarbone, curled up in his alter ego's grasp. Freakazoid was the opposite of Dexter, that meant Freak was hands on and touchy feely, and the only reason Dex was allowing this was because well, it wasn't like it was a stranger or even another person, right? This was….this was Freakazoid, who he knew and trusted. Hell, who shared his literal brain with him. There was nothing Freak didn't know about him.

Yet he still stuck around, and never made fun of Dexter for his vices. Not once. It was kind of amazing.

What had he done to deserve a superhero housed in his mind that, like most heroes, was essentially flawless, even if he was a bit well, erratic or freaky?

"Hey Dex, how ya feeling?"

"M'okay." Even as a gloved hand came up and moved aside his bangs, pressing against his forehead. "….you're checking for a fever?" He asked blearily.

"You were out in the rain a long time buddy, not to mention you're still wearing the clothes you came home in." The hero reasoned, unusually quiet as he fretted over the geek and made sure he was comfy.

"Oh. Thanks."

That earned him a look. "For what?"

"Being you." Thin arms came and circled around his neck as Dexter pulled himself more flush with the hero's toned chest and rested under the crook of his neck. It was probably the first time he'd ever initiated contact between the two of them, but Dexter missed the look of slight shock and then warm affection spread across his hero's face.

"You're the best, Freakazoid." The words tumbled from the groggy, relaxing teen's lips before he could stop them. "….You're…" a pause for a small yawn as a large hand strayed to his spine and rubbed it, sending Dex's mind further into sleep mode. "…my hero."

Above him Freakazoid rested his chin securely on his little geek's head and tucked him close, body thrumming from the electric pulses the internet used to course through him. It was like the hum a computer tower made when it wasn't rushed or doings simple tasks; slow and strong and just plain there. Whether Freak knew it or not it was sort of lulling to the world weary geek, who relaxed closer against his other half and drifted off.

"That's how it's supposed to be Dex." He said quietly after a moment, even though he knew Dexter was asleep both mentally and physically.

"...I'm right there." He tipped that sleeping body back and stretched out under him, laying Dexter's mental form on top of his chest and idly ran his fingers through the geek's hair, just trying to be comforting, just trying to get him to sleep. Normally loud and vibrant and excited, Freakazoid knew this was quiet time. He could be very patient when the time called for it, and for Dexter Freakazoid had all the time in the world.

In a hour or so, Freak would lovingly but firmly nudge his tiny counterpart awake and send him down stairs to sneak a simple meal like a sandwich or something. Then Dex would trudge back upstairs and skirt back to his room, eat his meal and then go get a warm shower per Freak's prodding and suggesting. All in all the day wouldn't end _so_ bad, (there would certainly be worse, Freakazoid had the inkling.) and anyway Freak had scheduled some wrestling time with Duncan the next time he was let out, he'd made the promise to himself. Sweet revenge aside, it'd be just what his little geek needed, and Freakazoid was only happy to help.

Dexter Douglas had a bad day. On a scale of one to ten, it'd been a solid 11.5.

But Freakazoid was there, and Freakazoid would be there for Dexter Douglas till the day the internet ended.


End file.
